


Cheek to Cheek

by Riddlebird-puff (hobbitpuff)



Series: Riddlebird Week 2018 [6]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Dancing and Singing, First Dance, First Kiss, M/M, Prompt: Singing and Dancing, Riddlebird Week, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-16 02:37:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15427188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbitpuff/pseuds/Riddlebird-puff
Summary: For Riddlebird Week: Music and DancingSet in Season 2 while Oswald is recuperating at Edward’s apartment. They watch the movie Top Hat together, share their first dance, and first kiss.This is a very light “T” rating.





	Cheek to Cheek

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve had this fic in my documents for awhile and finally got the inspiration to finish it. Hope you like it.

Oswald could not fall asleep. The studio apartment was too quiet and every odd noise was too loud. The bed was too large and empty. He could not seem to find a comfortable position no matter how he twisted underneath the heavy blankets. 

 

He scooted towards Nygma’s side of the bed seeking comfort but finding none. 

 

Edward had called hours ago to say that the GCPD had found the body of a male in his thirties in a dumpster behind Gotham City Hall. The body belonged to one Geoffrey Green according to Ed, former aide to the Mayor and informant to Falcone. And the wounds found on the body pointed to the known assassin Zsasz. None of which concerned Oswald except for it meant his would-be roommate would be late coming home.

 

He had no reason to like the strange man and even less reason to trust him. But against all rational reason he did trust him. And he had even found himself almost becoming fond of him. Oswald had been an only child but he had often imagined having a brother. Someone who would be a conspirator. Edward could be that brother. 

 

And as odd as it sounded, he had begun to think of the apartment as home. But the murder of Green made him realize it was time to leave the sanctuary of Ed’s home and return to his own life. As empty as it would be without his mother. Suddenly a shot of extreme pain traveled down his arm. 

 

Oswald sat up and looked at the clock. It was late enough, or perhaps early enough, to just stay up and wait for Ed to come home. 

 

Oswald wrapped the blanket around him and moved to the sofa. The sofa, like everything in the apartment, was obviously used and had a strange odor but was comfortable. He picked up the controller and turned on the small black and white set. 

 

The television was even older than the sofa and there was a large dent in its corner. Edward had teased that it had been evidence in a murder, or at least Oswald assumed he was only teasing. Perhaps everything in the apartment had been taken from a crime scene. He shivered under the blanket. 

 

Oswald had nothing against a little murder. But he thought of killing as a means to an end. Nygma on the other hand seemed to have more in common with the killers his mother had liked to watch on television. But he would burn out quickly if he didn’t learn to control it. 

 

The television blinked on. News. Deaths, missing persons, and crime. The things they spoke about were happening out there. The news did not enter the apartment. He changed the channel. A so-called ‘situation comedy’ with fake smiles and canned laughter. He changed the channel again.

 

On the screen a slim man in a tuxedo sprinkled sand on a wooden floor and tapped gracefully in steps on top of the sand. 

 

_ ‘No strings and no connections. No ties to my affections. I’m fancy free and free for anything fancy.’  _

 

Oswald sang softly with the music, it reminded him of his mother. He had often sat up half the night with her watching old musicals tucked into bed together. And Astaire had always been her favorite.  _ ‘He was class,’  _ she would tell him. As a boy he had found the stories silly but the singing and especially the dancing had entranced him. 

 

Edward came home while Astaire and Rogers were dancing around their feelings in a gazebo. Oswald heard the locks unlocking. He turned around to watch the door, his hand gripped the folded razor he had hidden in the pocket of his borrowed robe. 

 

The door opened and Edward blinked at him. “Oswald, you didn’t have to wait up for me.”

 

Oswald rolled his eyes. “I couldn’t sleep. I suppose it was too quiet without your snoring.” 

 

“I don’t snore,” Ed shut and locked the door. “I think you just missed me, admit it.”

 

Oswald turned back to the tv screen. “I did not miss your cold feet, I confess.”

 

“You can hardly blame me for that. You steal all the blankets.” Edward walked past the sofa. “I admit, it is nice to have someone to come home to. Living alone can get rather lonesome.” 

 

He felt a strange flutter at Ed’s words but when he looked over his shoulder the man was already removing his work clothes. The apartment held little privacy it was true however Nygma did not seem to understand the concept of personal space. 

 

Edward unbuttoned his shirt and took it off, held the fabric up to his face and scrapped a spot with his nail, and dropped it with the rest of the dirty laundry. Ed then bent over to remove his trousers. His undershirt rode up and his briefs got caught on his trousers pushing them down past his narrow hips and flashing Oswald a tantalizing glimpse of his crack. 

 

He had the sudden urge to push the briefs off Nygma all the way and lick down the center of that crack with his tongue. Oswald shuddered and looked away in embarrassment. He had never entertained such crude fantasies before. It must have been the lack of sleep. 

 

On the screen the man and woman were dancing side by side, together but not touching. 

 

“Hot or cold?” 

 

“What?” Oswald turned his head. Ed had put on pajama bottoms. 

 

“Hot cocoa or chocolate milk? I was thinking we should have a treat before turning in.” 

 

“Cocoa. And make certain to put plenty of whipped cream on top.” 

 

“Roger. I picked up a little something special at the market today to add.” 

 

“It wouldn’t be something alcoholic would it?” Oswald had not had anything to drink since waking up in Edward’s bed and it was making him on edge. 

 

“No, silly. I told you, I don’t drink. But it’s a surprise.” Edward entered the kitchen area. “No peeking.” 

 

Oswald turned back to the screen. 

 

_ ‘Just as you were going, leaving me all at sea, the clouds broke, they broke, and oh what a break for me.’  _ Oswald sang under his breath and hummed. 

 

“What about the case?” He called out. 

 

“It was obviously a mob hit, someone is taking out the trash and the message was clear.” Edward giggled. “Gordon mentioned your name, actually. He believes you may be involved.” 

 

“Jim thinks I had that man killed?” Oswald shouldn’t be surprised but he can’t help but be a little disappointed. The detective always did think the worst of him. 

 

“What? No. Gordon mentioned that you had gone missing. He said, I hope we don’t find the Penguin in a dumpster of his own.” Edward chuckled. “It was Bullock that brought up that it was more likely that you had put the snitch in the dumpster yourself.” 

 

The thought that the handsome detective may have been worried about his welfare made him warm under the covers. There was something about the detective that reminded him of the classic actors his mother had watched so often. 

 

“I assume you did not tell them the truth.” 

 

“Did you know the Emperor Penguin can hold its breath underwater for up to twenty minutes? Detectives Gordon and Bullock did not.” Edward opened the cabinet and took down the two mugs.

 

“You underestimate James Gordon, my friend. You should not have given him the clue that I am in hiding underwater.” Oswald sighed. Although, perhaps he could use this to his advantage. “He will grow suspicious.” 

 

“Gordon’s brain is the least exercised muscle in his body.” Edward turned on the stove. “And the one most strained.” 

 

Oswald smiled. His newly formed friend had a way with words but he was wrong. Gordon was cleverer than he supposed. 

 

The actor on the tv was on a stage now. The man was dressed to the nines in a tuxedo and top hat. And he held a thin black cane in his hand that he used to tap like a third leg. The dancer was power and grace combined.  _ ‘See he has cane like my Ozzie,’  _ his mother pointed to the screen. 

 

_ ‘I’m puttin’ on my top hat, tyin’ up my white tie, brushin’ off my tails, I’m dudin’ up my shirt front, puttin’ in the shirt studs, polishin’ my nails, I’m stepping out, my dear, to breathe an atmosphere that simply reeks with class.’  _ Oswald sang along with the screen actor below his breath.

 

“Here you go.” Edward handed Oswald his mug. He sat down next to him on the sofa. “Top Hat. 1935. Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers with music by Irving Berlin.” 

 

Oswald took the mug from Ed. The mug was one of the plain ones found in any chain store but Nygma had drawn a crude open umbrella upon it in purple ink. On his own he had drawn a green question mark. 

 

Oswald took a sip of the hot cocoa. “Chocolate syrup.” 

 

“Just like how you told me your mother made it for you when you were sick,” Edward grinned, pleased with himself. 

 

“You remembered.” Oswald did not even recall telling Ed that tidbit about his childhood. What else had the man learned about him without Oswald realizing it.

 

“I remember everything you've told me, Oswald. Well, I remember  _ everything  _ everyone has ever told me,” he shrugged. “But especially you, Mr. Penguin.” 

 

“That must be an extremely useful talent to have, Mr. Nygma.” Useful and  _ dangerous.  _ Nygma could be too much of a risk to leave alive. 

 

“I don't know any different, I've always had the talent, my teachers and father thought it made me a cheat and a liar. My mother believed I was the spawn of a demon.” Ed spoke plainly, that was the worst of it to Oswald. “Frankly I think that said more about her than me.” 

 

“My mother was a single parent,” Oswald found himself telling Ed. “The children in school started a rumor that my father was an imp, because of my limp and twisted back.” 

 

“Then I say that makes us a fine pair demons,” Edward clinked his mug against Oswald’s and took a drink. “Perhaps we have the same demonic father, who knows we could be brothers.” Ed grinned with chocolate syrup around his mouth. 

 

Oswald longed to lean forward and lick the syrup off Ed’s lips.  _ Brothers.  _ He might not know what it was like to have a brother but he did not think brothers licked syrup off each other's lips. He placed one of the pillows on the sofa over his lap and pushed down.  _ That  _ was another reason he needed to get away from here. He had always known he was attracted to men, but no other man had tempted him as much as this one. Not even Gordon. And he needed to get away from him before he did something stupid. 

 

Edward leaned forward and for one crazy moment Oswald thought he was going to kiss him but he only wiped whipped cream from the tip of his nose with his finger and stuck it in his mouth. If he didn't think Nygma was capable of it Oswald would've thought he was doing it on purpose. 

 

He turned back to the movie trying to concentrate on Fred and Ginger and tried to ignore the leg that was brushing against his own. 

 

“They don't make movies like this anymore,” Edward said. “Everything is about sex, today romance is dead.” 

 

“Take off your rose-tinted glasses,” Oswald scoffed. “She believes he is married to her best friend, the audience may know it is a case of mistaken identity however she does not, she is guilty of adultery in the hypothetical if not the actual deed. And he is little better than a stalker. This movie is very misogynistic. Hardly what I would term  _ romantic. _ ”

 

“Then why do you watch it?” Ed chuckled. 

 

“It was my mother’s favorite Astaire and Rogers movie, you would've called her a romantic I suppose,” he shrugged. “When I was small enough she would pick me up and we would dance. And when I grew too big for that, I would stand on her feet. It was the only way I could dance with my leg. I felt like Astaire to her Rogers, although I do not expect you to understand.” 

 

“You’re right, of course,” Ed thinly smiled. “The only dancing my mother would have done would be around a bonfire at midnight.” 

 

“I didn’t mean to insinuate-,” Oswald sighed. “It is only someone like you would not understand what it is to be a  _ crippled _ .” 

 

“You are not a crippled, Oswald.”

 

“You must have looked at my leg when you undressed me, Nygma,” he laughed harshly. “As you must have seen, my dancing days are behind me.” 

 

On the screen the man and woman were finally dancing in each other’s arms. 

 

“Not necessarily,” Edward grinned. “Not if you had the right dance partner.”

 

“Do not be ridiculous-.” Ed placed his mug on the coffee table and took Oswald’s out of his hands. “You could never hold my weight.”

 

Edward stood and held out his hand to Oswald. “Mr. Cobblepot will you do me the honors of joining me in a dance.” 

 

Oswald feared he was somehow being made fun of but Edward had been nothing if not sincere. And somehow that was even more frightening. He took Ed’s hand and let the other man pull him up.

 

“Do not blame me if we both end up on the floor. I did try to warn you.” 

 

“Relax, Oswald. Trust me, I will not allow you to fall.” He put his arm around Oswald’s waist. “Now put your foot on mine to keep your weight off of it.” He placed his crippled foot on Ed’s and Ed took his uninjured arm with his other hand. 

 

It felt unnatural to place all control over to Nygma. But oddly he did trust him. 

 

_ ‘And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak, and I seem to find the happiness I seek, when we’re out together dancing, cheek to cheek.’  _ The man on the screen sang. His heart was beating so rapidly surely the other man could feel it being so close. He wanted the dance to end, he never wanted it to end. 

 

_ ‘Dance with me, I want my arm about you, the charm about you, will carry me through to heaven.’ _ He sang along. He had always thought the lyrics were nothing more than romantic foolishness but he thought he might understand them for the first time, tonight in Edward’s arms. 

 

_ ‘I’m in heaven, and my heart beats so that I can barely speak, and I seem to find the happiness I seek, when we’re out together dancing cheek to cheek.’  _ Edward finished the song along with him. He quickly kissed Oswald on the lips and laughing dropped him gently backwards on the sofa. 

 

“That  _ was _ fun!” Edward grinned, he wasn’t even breathing heavy that Oswald could tell. “I’ll wash these out before we go to bed.” He grabbed the two discarded mugs and went towards the kitchen area. 

 

Oswald touched his finger to his lips. He felt giddy. He could not tell Edward that this had been his first kiss. He started to hum.  _ ‘Heaven, I’m in heaven..’ _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> Obviously this fic was inspired by the movie Top Hat. It was always one of my grandma’s favorites and holds a special place in my heart.


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